


Emotions Get the Better of Her

by hetzi_clutch



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Gen, I guess a character study/interpretation?, I suppose, Other, This is to prove I can write angst, dark doctor, do NOT read if you like thasmin, um idek what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-17 12:49:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18098837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hetzi_clutch/pseuds/hetzi_clutch
Summary: She hadn’t meant to let them see her smile.





	Emotions Get the Better of Her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wearetheonlyone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearetheonlyone/gifts).



> I wrote this at work because I was bored, so I’m blaming all mistakes on my phone. Also idek what this is, don’t judge me

It felt exactly the same as saving a planet.

Scary, that.

The Doctor turned to face her fam, away from the window looking over the burning planet, and nearly forgot to wipe the smile off her face. She did though, just in time, and schooled her expression into one of terrible tragedy.

And there was that sorrow there, a deep pit in her stomach, but at the same time her blood was singing with triumph because, despite it all, they had _won._ Saved the universe, and only for the price of one planet—and a small one at that, barely destined to do anything great in the future, anyway. She had checked. 

“I'm sorry,” she told them in a voice that was carefully hollow. “I really am. But I don't—I don’t think there was another way.”

And her voice _almost_ broke as she said that, which was barely acting at all, because it was painful. Not everybody could live, today. And she would mourn them all, later.

But for now, they had won, and she couldn't help but feel that too.

Her fam stared at her in horror and anguish and even as she winced in sympathy—they were young, never seen a planet die, barely _brushed_ death—she couldn't help a flash of annoyance, too. Because it was old hat, by now, for her. Seen it plenty of times. They hadn't, but—oh, could a human brain really feel the scope of the loss of an entire planet?

“I'm sorry,” she said again, because they were still stunned, still staring at the planet crumbling below, and as she watched, Yaz’s eyes flicked from the window to her. Only for a moment. Less.

“It's okay, Doc.” Graham’s eyes were still glued to the planet, and his voice came out strangled. “But can we—can we please go back to the TARDIS now?”

Ryan nodded vigorously, and after a moment Yaz joined in, and the Doctor looked between them for a moment and abruptly recalled that they were only human, human and they were so _affected,_ and she felt a surge of fondness for them all.

“Of course,” she answered, her tone solemn. “Of course.”

————

The Doctor was fiddling with the TARDIS console when she saw Yaz come up behind her, catching her reflection in one of the monitors. She turned with a gentle smile.

“Hey Yaz. You okay?”

“Um—” Yaz seemed unsure, twisting her hands nervously together, but then she nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I just, um, wanted to ask you something.”

“Anything.” She let her smile turn encouraging. “What's on your mind?”

“Okay. Um.” Yaz paused, gulped, then squared her shoulders. “So. Back on that spaceship, when we saw—you know. When we couldn't save it.”

The Doctor’s smile faded slightly, but she forced herself to keep it in place. She should have expected this, really. “Yeah?”

“Well, um—” it was clear whatever she was trying to say was hard to get out. Her eyes fell to the console, then to the floor, then back to the console. She didn't look at the Doctor. “I saw you smile. For a moment. In the reflection of the glass, before you turned around.”

The Doctor’s smile fell away completely—and only a moment too late, she realized that was the wrong reaction. Now she was as good as caught, and Yaz knew it too; she looked up just in time to watch the smile drip away, and her eyes widened at the confirmation. 

“I—” the Doctor began, then realized that, for once in her life, she didn't know what to say. And Yaz was watching her, her eyes growing larger and larger, her expression filling with horror.

“Doctor, did you—you didn't enjoy that, did you?” She asked, and the Doctor could tell by the careful strain in her voice that she wasn't all the way to belief, not quite yet. She seized the chance gratefully.

“What—no! Yaz, no.” She caught Yaz’s gaze and held it, and tried to dredge up the sorrow she had felt earlier. It was hard to pull up, suddenly buried deep beneath a panic she didn't expect, a frantic urge to get Yaz to believe, to see that she wasn't _mad._ “Yaz, I just—I was relieved, for a moment. Because it was them or the universe, and I—well, I quite like the universe.”

It wasn't the way to phrase it, too flippant and off-key, but she was rushing now, just trying to get something out because she still didn't know what to say.

And Yaz clearly didn't buy it. She shook her head, and took a step back. “It wasn't that kind of smile, though. It was—I don't know, happy.”

The Doctor shook her head, even as her stomach dropped. “I don't—I don't know what you mean, Yaz. Really. I just didn't want us to die. _You_ lot to die.”

And that was true, but the rest of it wasn't, because the Doctor knew exactly what smile she'd been wearing, seen it on the Master’s face often enough, and always tried to stifle it on her own. Only this time she'd slipped. That was all.

But she couldn't explain all that to Yaz, could already see the lost opportunity slipping away, as she took another step back. She was a good meter away from the Doctor now, her eyes glimmering with apprehension, closing in on fear, and the Doctor’s stomach twisted with panic.

She hadn't—she hadn't meant for her to _see._

“Yaz,” the Doctor reached out to her, and took a step forward, only to freeze as Yaz gave a slight shake of her head. “Yaz, you know I would never—”

“I don't know, Doctor.” Her voice was harsh, upset, and she looked at the Doctor for several long moments, biting her lip indecisively. “How could you _smile?”_

The Doctor stared at her helplessly, no answer ready on her tongue. “Yaz, listen, it wasn't—”

“I think I want to go home.” Yaz cut her off, and the Doctor stopped, taken aback.

“What?” Hurt spread across her face. Yaz didn't waver. “You mean for a visit, or—?”

“Not for a visit.” Yaz was watching her carefully, as if she was afraid the Doctor might refuse, and the Doctor wanted to scoff, despite her hearts plunging into her stomach. She would never refuse. Did Yaz really think that was who she was, after everything?

“You want to go home. For good.” She delivered it flatly, half disbelieving and half reeling with the terrible realization that it was all too real, one slip and— _gone._ Just like that.

It wasn't fair.

“Yeah. For good.” Yaz avoided her gaze, but the Doctor watched her for a moment longer before abruptly turning towards the console.

“Alright then.” Robotically she began to twist controls, punching in the coordinates for Sheffield without even looking, too numb to really pay attention. Numb, because beneath that was panic, was hurt, and beneath that was _anger._

Because it wasn't fair. Wasn't fair that she had seen it, that she could just decide, _like that,_ and the Doctor didn't even get a chance to _explain_ —or rather she had, but how could you explain to a simple human girl, what it meant to live 2000 years and see dozens of planets destroyed, to mourn each one until you got sick of it? How could _Yaz_ understand—

It wasn't fair. Wasn't fair, wasn't fair, wasn't—

The Doctor barely realized they were flying until they'd landed, with a thump and a familiar wheeze which she normally loved, but in this moment hated. She saw Yaz straighten up from where she'd been gripping a pillar, and straightened up herself, then gestured towards the door. “Can I walk you out?”

Yaz eyed her, then nodded, a little uneasy. “Yeah, sure, Doctor.”

She nearly sagged with relief, but slightly bitter hurt kept her upright, so instead she let Yaz lead the way to the doors and out into the Sheffield sun, and pretended not to see her sigh of relief when she saw that it was, in fact, Sheffield.

It stung though, all the same.

“Well, then.” The Doctor stuck her hands in her pockets, and rocked back on her heels. “I guess this is it.”

“Yeah.” Yaz turned to face her, and in her eyes the Doctor thought she saw just a glimmer of regret. Maybe. “Guess it is.”

The Doctor didn't say anything for a moment, because suddenly the hurt was swelling up in her chest, making it hard to breath, and she had to resist the urge to take Yaz by the shoulders and shout it in her face, the unfairness of her actions. Instead she nodded towards her flat block. “Get home alright, yeah?”

“I will.” Yaz was watching her, and for a split second the Doctor thought she caught the wisp of her old smile, just for an instant—and then it vanished, and her eyes shuttered away again. “Goodbye, Doctor.”

She turned without waiting for a reply, so the Doctor didn't give her one, but whispered it under her breath, a quiet “Bye, Yaz”. Then she watched her for only a moment before turning into the TARDIS, because she'd never liked goodbyes, and this one was particularly painful, come unfairly soon. She half-wanted to get angry over it but didn't have the energy—and furthermore, she couldn't bear to prove whatever image Yaz had of her right. 

She trudged to the console and began to take off, unwilling to linger, and already worriedly caught up in what she was going to tell Ryan and Graham when they began asking questions. Perhaps she would tell them that Yaz simply missed her job, had for a while, and didn't want to make a big fuss. Or perhaps she would tell them—

She was already in the time vortex, and deep in thought when she glanced at the coordinates she'd set to Sheffield, only to pause, and frown.

_Sheffield, England, 2016._

The Doctor wrinkled her nose, trying to figure out what seemed off about the date. Her fam was from the late teens, weren't they? Had it been 2016, or 2019?

She stared at it a moment, then shrugged, just a little sulky. Yaz had made it pretty clear she hadn't wanted to see her, so what did it matter, anymore?

**Author's Note:**

> The Doctor isn’t _bad,_ she’s just got emotions.
> 
> I mean, I feel like we’ve all felt this way, sometime in our life. Obviously not enough to leave Yaz in the wrong year, but...yeah.
> 
> Also, did I leave this ambiguous? I feel like I left this ambiguous.


End file.
